


Baby, You're Wondrous

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Husband Namjoon, Lactation Kink, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Pregnant Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Pregnancy is rough and tiring and even a bit gross, but your dearest husband comforts you and shows you just how desirable you still are.





	Baby, You're Wondrous

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings & Features: domestic & established relationship (Husband!Namjoon); pregnant Reader; brief gender talk; graphic sexual content (pregnant sex, slight body worship(?), lactation, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, creampie, associated dirty talk)

Slamming the car door with more force than necessary is childish, and if your husband were here, he would tell you so. Well, probably not in such blatant terms. He would probably just ask you to explain what  _led_ you to such pissy behavior, and your answer would be that your patience is nearly spent.

It is probably not a good sign that your patience is in such short supply these days; you know you are going to need all of it - and then some - when the baby comes, after all.

You rest one of your hands on the crest of your bulging stomach and sigh softly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to the ever-growing child within. “I guess you might need to be patient with  _me_ , too, if it’s not too much to ask.”

The tears well up unbidden. They do that often lately with your hormones on the fritz. Evidently something as mundane as a shopping trip to the mall is enough to upset you nowadays. Then your mind dwells on how you should simply be  _grateful_  to be in a position to go buy the things you want and need whenever you want, and that only makes you sob harder.

You allow the silly little breakdown to run its course, knowing it will be better to let it out now while you are alone rather than later in front of your husband and feel all the more embarrassed for it. After a few minutes, you sniffle and wipe your wet cheeks in shame. After another minute of deep breaths, when you are certain that you are stable enough to safely drive the car, you start the engine.

The commute home gives you some time to decompress, and the surprising sight of Namjoon’s car in the driveway lifts your spirits. He told you this morning that he may have to work late this evening - which was fine by you since it translated to having more money for the pending expenses of raising a child - but having him home is even better.

A loud clang and a muttered curse greet you as you enter the front door. It may not be a  _polite_  reaction, but you can’t help but smile at whatever your husband is struggling with in the kitchen. You sling your shopping bags onto the couch on your way by and go to rescue him.

Namjoon is bent over at the waist, rummaging through a bottom cabinet with his backside to you. You take the moment to ogle the fit of his jeans appreciatively before making your presence known.

“Hi honey! Need some help?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice and whirls around. “___! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s because you were busy tearing down the kitchen, from the sound of it,” you laugh.

He does not even dispute your gibe. He just groans in frustration and kicks his foot out behind him to close the cabinet, missing twice before connecting with it. “Where do we keep the rice cooker? I swear I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you look  _here_?” You pull open the correct cabinet near your calves and squat down to retrieve what he is looking for, but he quickly stops you.

“Hey, hey, let me get it.” He comes over and crouches with you only to put his hands on your hips and lift you back upright with him. “You shouldn’t over-exert yourself. I got a bun in that oven, lady.”

That elicits a snort from you. “Don’t I know it. My whole  _day_  was an over-exertion, though. I think I can handle stooping over to grab the rice cooker.”

“Oh?” His face becomes concerned, and his hands begin sliding up and down along your sides soothingly. “What was wrong with your day?”

“Oh, it’s just that I’ve decided I  _hate_  shopping for maternity clothes,” you sigh heavily. The statement is so frivolous it makes you cringe, but the rest of your unimportant complaints come flooding out anyway. “They’re all so unflattering, not to mention it’s so uncomfortable trying them on. Getting undressed and redressed is such a pain in the ass. It’s like a whole fucking workout now, I swear to God.”

“Ah, I bet. Poor thing,” says Namjoon without a trace of condescension to his tone, and you envy his patience. He pulls you in for a hug in his long arms, and your swollen stomach bumps against his flat one.

Inspired by his understanding, you continue unburdening your rather meaningless worries into his shoulder. “It was so crowded, too. I hate how everyone  _stares_  at me all the time just because I’m pregnant. And I  _especially_  hate when other women come up to me and give me advice or tell me stories about their own pregnancies like I fucking asked.”

Namjoon chuckles quietly and massages his fingertips into the back of your head as he cradles it. “I think they’re just trying to be kind and helpful. They only mean well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also super annoying,” you grunt back.

“Sorry, doll. What can I do to help?”

You shake your head and step back from him. “Right now I just want to shower and change my clothes. Seriously, I’m not kidding about that ‘workout.’ My back and my tits have been soaked for hours; I feel disgusting right now.”

“Well, we’ve got a towel right here.” He whips the dish towel off the handle of the stove with a flourish and holds it up. His accompanying smile draws a deep groove into his left cheek. “Let me help you.”

A laugh bursts from you. “What, you really want to dry my boobs off with  _that_?”

“Hey, it’s clean!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“You’ll be glad for my silliness when our baby comes,” he teases, then begins tickling you mercilessly.

Your stomach muscles heave with your fit of giggles, and the baby starts kicking from within you to join in on the commotion.

“Ah! No t-tickling, damnit! The b-baby d-doesn’t like it!” you claim between breaths.

“No?” Namjoon stops his playful torment and cups your stomach on either side. It only takes half a second for him to feel what you mean. “I think maybe she does.”

“Or  _he_. It could be a boy, you know.”

The two of you have decided to keep the gender a surprise until the birth, but that does not stop your husband from speculating the closer your due date draws.

“Could be,” he concedes a bit dismissively. He kneels down on the tiled floor in front of you until his face is level with your belly-button, which has recently begun to protrude outwards like the rest of you.

He runs his fingers along the surface of your stretched shirt and says quietly, “I just have a hunch that it’s a girl. She’s feisty, like you.” He places a chaste kiss on the top of your belly, then speaks directly to it. “Sorry about the tickling, sweet baby girl. Daddy was just making Mommy laugh to help make her feel better. I have something else that might make her feel better, though.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

He twines his fingers with yours and leads you up the stairs - which have become quite the strain on your knees lately - and to the baby’s room.

The moment he pushes open the door, you see exactly what he means. The crib now resembles a crib and not just a scattering of wooden pieces strewn about the floor the way they had been for almost two weeks. The inside is lined with blankets and stuffed animals, and the mobile you chose is hanging above it. It could hardly be more picturesque.

With this, the nursery is complete. The painting had been finished a couple months ago, and the other pieces of necessary and decorative furniture have occupied their places for quite some time as well.

“Wow, you actually finished it?” you exclaim in a hushed tone. “How did you have time to do that after work today?”

“You were gone for longer than you realize,” he chuckles in response. “I took half the day off to come home and surprise you, but you weren’t here, so I decided to surprise you with  _this_  instead.”

“Consider me surprised,” you tell him with a smile. You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking over to the crib. You give the rail a little shake to test the sturdiness of your husband’s handiwork, and your eyebrows raise in satisfaction at the result.

“I only had to start all over again once,” Namjoon comments proudly, sidling up beside you and gliding a hand along the small of your back to rest on your opposite hip; his thumb traces little circles into it.

“You did a great job,” you commend, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his waist in return, albeit with a bit of difficulty due to your belly getting in the way again.

“Glad you like it.” He leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then down to your chin, then back up to your mouth.

You smile and chase after his lips when he withdraws them, and he laughs as he kisses you back.

“Come on, let’s sit for a bit and get you off your feet, doll. Dinner and your shower can wait a little while longer.” He moves over to the rocking chair in the corner and takes a seat, then pats his lap invitingly.

“Joon, I’ll crush you,” you decline with a shake of your head.

He shakes his head right back. “Oh stop it. No you won’t. You’re not that heavy, and I’m not that fragile.”

He starts beckoning you by stretching his arms out and repeatedly opening and closing his hands, much like a needy child. The action is irresistibly endearing, so you relent. You toe off your shoes and go to sit on his proposed seat. You try not to rest too much weight on him as you sit on his knee, but he ruins your position by dragging you further up his thigh.

“Put your legs up on me,” he instructs. “If it’s not too uncomfortable for you, I mean.”

You do as he says and turn sideways to hoist your legs over his other thigh. Namjoon holds onto your outer knee with one hand and wraps his other arm behind your back to keep you in place.

“Is this okay?” he checks.

You shift and wiggle around until your back is relatively comfortable.

“I think so,” you decide. “Are  _you_  okay?”

He smiles and squeezes you reassuringly. “I’ve got my beautiful wife on my lap… we’re sitting right where we’ll be rocking our baby when she -  _or he_  - is born… I’d say I’m pretty perfect.”

You decide to take his word for it and sigh contently as you lean into him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek against your head and pushes his feet off the floor to begin gently rocking the chair as it was intended.

For a few moments, the two of you sit and rock in silence until Namjoon begins humming softly. Something mellow and baritone. The melody is one you recognize, but the lyrics to that particular song elude you. You’ll ask him about them later; right now, the vibrations from his throat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat are lulling you peacefully. The faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body seep into your skin.

You tilt your head up to kiss his neck appreciatively for the comfort he is providing. He hums out of tune at your gentle touch, and you kiss him there again. This time you take a bit of his flesh into your mouth with a delicate suck, and he hisses in a short breath. His reaction spurs you to do it again, and then again, until the golden skin is left pink from the teasing.

“Mm, that feels really good, babe,” Namjoon murmurs. The pet name makes your heart flutter a bit; it used to be used so frequently at the beginning of your courtship, but over the years it has become a bit more rare. It makes you feel a little sexy, even in your sweaty, bloated, and achy state.

“Yeah? Should I keep going?” you whisper. Your lips ghost over his neck, and your fingers begin trailing down the center of his breastplate.

“Please.” There is a slight rasp to the syllable that makes you feel proud considering you have barely even done anything to him.

Your fingers find the hem of his black t-shirt and begin tugging at it. “Do you mind if I take this off, then?”

“Not at all.” He lifts his arms up helpfully so you can tug it over his head and toss it aside. The taut muscles in his chest and abdomen twitch as your fingertips lightly graze them. Before you get to the waistband of his jeans, he takes your wandering fingers in his and stops you.

“Wait.”

You look up at him curiously.

“You said you had a rough day,” he says. “ _I_  should take care of  _you_.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I figured I could start by getting you out of your clothes, and then we can see where things lead.”

Sex with your husband has been infrequent over the course of your thirty-week pregnancy so far, but it  _has_  occurred. The doctor assured you that there are no complication risks involved, even when this far along; your pregnancy is perfectly healthy, and sex is not harmful to the baby, so you and Namjoon are free to continue your normal sex life.

The problem is you don’t always feel up for sex. Between your various aches and the increasing challenge of finding a comfortable position, you sometimes have to wonder if an orgasm is really worth the trouble. But it has been a while since your last release, and you trust Namjoon to be caring and attentive.

He guides you back to a standing position while remaining in the chair himself, and you allow him to remove your shirt. The sheen of sweat that has covered you for the greater part of the afternoon is made even more apparent when the open air meets it.

“Ugh, I still feel gross,” you can’t help but mention under your breath. The inkling of sexiness you felt just moments earlier has dissipated.

“You don’t look gross,” Namjoon assures you. His eyes scan you from face to toes before settling on your chest. “Take your bra off for me, please.”

With only a half second of hesitation, you unhook the restrictive garment and shrug out of it to let it drop to the floor. The moment it is gone, Namjoon reaches out to grasp your hips and slide his hands up along the expanse of your stomach. His hot, tender touch sends a shiver through you, and the baby begins fidgeting again. Your husband must feel it, too, because he smiles up at you brightly.

“God, how did I get so lucky? You are so beautiful, ___.” His tone carries real sincerity. “Especially with your body like this, carrying our child. How wonderful you are.”

You automatically let out an unflattered snort of self-consciousness as you think of the new stretch marks striping your breasts, hips, and stomach. You can’t even bring yourself to look at them right now.

“I mean it, it’s true,” he insists. His eyes drop to your bare stomach to look at what you will not. “It’s amazing how you’re able to grow a baby inside of you, just because I came in you.”

There is laughter in your breathy exhale. “Gee, you make it sound so  _sexy_.”

“Oh, but it  _is_  sexy. You’re growing hands and feet and…  _eyes_  inside your womb right now, this very second.”

You wrinkle your nose. “That doesn’t sound sexy at all. It just sounds scientific.”

“Science can be sexy. But it’s also kind of magical. And just think about it: you’ll be able to  _feed_  the baby with your body, too…” He folds his full bottom lip between his teeth for a second as he studies your chest with great interest. “Just look at these perfect tits, getting all swollen with milk for our baby.”

He starts to squeeze, lift, and massage your breasts reverently, undeterred by the stickiness coated on the undersides of them from your sweat. A quiet moan rumbles up from your throat.

Even though he is being gentle, the stimulation is still enough to make your nipples begin discharging a thick fluid that is slightly yellow in color. The sight of it always embarrasses you, even though it is natural. Your helpful doctor explained that it is the “pre milk” before your body begins producing normal breast milk after the birth.

“Joon…” you fret with a nervous giggle. You peel his hands away and take a step back from him.

“It’s okay, doll,” he says kindly and does not let you retreat. He stands up and rearranges your hands so that he is the one holding yours. “It’s just your body. Don’t be ashamed. I told you, you’re beautiful.”

He lifts the heavy mounds on your chest again and presses them together as if to get a better view of the wetness seeping from them. He swipes his thumbs over both of your wet nipples, then casually sticks one of them in his mouth as if he has done this many times before. The gesture makes you blush.

“Mm, tastes sweet,” he says.

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Can… Do you think I could…” He trails off in a puff that sounds like he is embarrassed. Eventually he bluntly admits, “I want to try some more.”

“What, y-you want to actually…  _drink_  it?” The notion does not disgust you, just surprise you, and you want to make sure you are understanding him correctly.

“I’d like to try, if you’re comfortable with that. I just feel like I need to appreciate your body in every way.” Namjoon rolls a sensitive pebble between his thumb and forefinger as he waits for your reply.

After another second, you nod your consent, and he bends down to latch directly onto your teet. The touch of his soft, plump lips coupled with the press of his flat tongue makes you gasp in pleasure. Goosebumps break out over your skin as he suckles delicately. You have to admit the sensation of the fluid flowing from your nipple is oddly satisfying, and the wet suction sound Namjoon is creating is more than a little erotic. Heat starts to pool in your loins and dampen your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asks you again, peering up at your face as he switches to the other tit. When his tongue takes the nipple in between his lips, you notice it is coated with a milky yellow sheen.

“Yeah, it… it actually feels really good,” you confess. Without consciously choosing to do it, your thighs press together to apply pressure to your clit. Even with your stomach in the way, Namjoon’s smirk tells you he does not miss the action.

“Are you wet down there between your legs, too?” he wants to know.

“Yes.”

“Dripping?”

“Mm…”

“I want to feel.”

“Be my guest,” you invite coyly. He goes to slip his hand past the waistband of your pants, but you quickly specify, “Just take them off completely.”

He does not need to be told twice. He detaches from your breast and yanks your pants down to your ankles. You steady yourself on his broad shoulders as you pull your feet free.

“Panties, too,” you add, but his fingers are already hooking into them.

Once they are shed, Namjoon takes his time running his warm, slightly calloused hands back up your calves to your inner thighs, spreading your legs just a little wider than hip-width apart. Rather than continuing the slow pace that would suggest he is in the mood to tease, he wastes no time in dipping the pads of three fingers along your slit. The slickness he finds there has both of you groaning lowly.

“My, my. You  _are_  wet, sweetheart. Is this all because I sucked a little milk from your tits?”

A slow smile grows across your face. “Maybe.”

“Should I suck some more?”

“I don’t think there’s much in there at a time yet, honestly,” you inform him rather seriously. “Not until after the baby is born.”

He hums in understanding. “That’s okay, babe. Your pussy makes  _plenty_ of juice for me to drink.”

You start to giggle at his vulgarity, but the sound gets drawn back in with a gasp when he sinks two knuckles inside you. “J-Jesus, Joon. You’re r-really gonna kiss our child with that mouth?”

“Every chance I get,” he grins back with a deliberate draw and shove of his fingers. “Now, would you like to take a seat so I can eat this tasty pussy?” But he is  _already_  taking a taste by removing his fingers from you and sliding them into his mouth. He tops off the show with a flirty wink.

“I’d be delighted,” you answer.

The rocking chair tips backwards when you settle upon it, which only improves the access Namjoon has to your center. He makes it even easier, however, by kneeling down and lifting your legs up to rest on each of his shoulders.

“Is this good?” he ensures as he brings his head between your thighs and dots soft kisses along one of them.

You scoot your butt to the very edge of the seat. “Yeah, for now. I’ll let you know if it starts to hurt.”

“Please do,” he agrees at once. “I know you’re not always comfortable on your back lately. But this will feel good at first, babe.”

He leans forward and parts your sticky folds with two fingers before dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top in one slow, firm motion. Your breath hitches in your chest when he buries the pink muscle into your juicy hole. He licks in a circle from one pulsing wall to the other and back again, then pulls back and removes his tongue to lick his lips.

“Do you want my tongue in you and fingers on your clit, or my tongue on your clit and fingers in you?” he asks you thoughtfully. He does not normally require such direct instructions, especially outside the heat of the moment, but he has been so concerned with you in your pregnant state. He wants to make sure he is giving you as much pleasure as possible and does not want any room for misunderstanding or disappointment.

“Fingers inside, please,” you decide for him, leaving the other half unsaid.

Namjoon fits one finger back inside your pussy, soon followed by a second, and your walls squeeze tightly around the digits to welcome and secure them. Then he flattens his tongue to press it back and forth, up and down over your clit. He builds a steady pace that renders your eyes closed and mouth unhinged to let flow a stream of pleasurable sighs and moans. Your pitch heightens considerably when his fingers hit paydirt on that place inside you that always makes your toes curl. When you rock against his face to get all the friction you can, the chair moves with you.

“Shit, this is hot, babe,” your husband groans from below. “Do you like having your pussy eaten while sitting in the rocking chair, here in the nursery? In the baby’s room?”

Honestly, you’ve been trying  _not_  to focus on the cartoonish animals displayed along the walls and the multitudes of vibrant colors that suggest the presence of youth and innocence. You do, however, squeal extra excitedly from a particularly strong tap against your g-spot with his fingertips, and that seems to be all the answer he could want.

Namjoon becomes greedy for your unfiltered noises and closes his lips around your clit to suck it the way he sucked your nipples just moments earlier. A shiver tumbles down each rung of your spine, all the way to your clenched toes. Your muscles tense to cope with the sheer intensity of the pleasure being administered to that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. His fingers work tirelessly to undo you in tandem with his skillful tongue. The crest of your climax is drawing near so soon.

“Oh my  _God_ , Joon,” you breathe with hardly any sound. “Fuck, it’s been too long. You’ve got me so close already.”

He grunts his acknowledgement. “Is this how you want to come, doll? All over my fingers? All over my tongue?”

It is  _very_  tempting, but you still decline. “N-no. I want you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you.” He twists his fingers pointedly. “Can you be more specific?”

“You know what I mean,” you groan.

He has to get in a few more swipes of his tongue before he can say, “Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

“I want your c-cock inside me.”

Namjoon makes no move to cease his actions other than to briefly retract his tongue to speak again. “You sure you don’t want me to just keep going? You said you’re close.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please fuck me, Joon.”

The moan he lets out when he pulls away from you and gets to his feet is positively carnal. He hastens to undo his jeans, then shoves both them and his underwear to the floor in one swoop. You tilt your head to take in the view of his erect cock; the bulbous head is nearly purple from engorgement, and there is a definitive wetness at the slit from a buildup of precum.

“How do you want me, doll?”

“Let’s try the chair.”

“Like, do you want to bend over it and I’ll fuck you from behind? Or do you want me to sit down and then you… sit on  _me_?”

“Sit down and I’ll try riding you,” you clarify. The conversation is not exactly as sexy as what the situation would seem to call for, considering both of you are quite literally dripping with desire for the other, but you suppose that will happen when a couple has been together as many years as you and Namjoon have.

You rock yourself up and out of the chair, and Namjoon tugs your hands in his to further help you to your feet. He kisses you, giving you a quick taste of your arousal, before switching places with you and taking a seat. His cock points upwards as the perfect target on which to impale yourself.

You face away from him and straddle his legs to position yourself over him. One of his hands steadies your lowering hips as the other lines his member up for entry. The tip squeezes into your warm wetness with ease. Namjoon spreads his legs wider and thrusts up to fit a few more inches of himself. With another shove from him and a bit of wriggling on your part, his dick bottoms out.

“Fuck, you always feel so  _good_ ,” he rumbles from behind you. Both of his hands are clenched tightly on your hips now.

You moan in agreement. “So do you.”

Bracing yourself on the arms of the chair, you raise yourself up a couple inches, then sink back down swiftly. Namjoon plants his feet firmly to help keep the chair steady and meet you blow for blow as you start up a rhythm. The two of you grunt and pant with every stroke; the sounds are out of sync, but your movements are not.

The friction feels good, but your looming orgasm from earlier is not quite building again as you had hoped it would. Furthermore, your arms are beginning to tremble from your efforts.

“Shit,” you swear in frustration. “Maybe this won’t work after all.”

He brings up his earlier suggestion and says, “Want to try bending over?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try that.”

His dick slides out of you to slap against his stomach when you stand up from his lap. Again, the two of you switch positions so you can lean down and prop your arms along the armrests of the chair. The seat tilts downwards as you bend over and press your head against the back of it, and your breasts hang heavy below you. You vaguely notice that they have begun to leak again.

Namjoon steps up behind you and returns his hands to your waist to lift your backside a little higher to expose yourself to him. The head of his cock glides over your asshole when he guides it into place at your pussy again. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushes back inside you and waits for an extended moment while you to readjust to the tight stretch of his girth.

When you tell him you’re ready, he recreates the rhythm you had started earlier, but at a slightly faster tempo now. Each smack of his tensed thighs against your buttocks makes your breasts bounce - another motion that does not go unnoticed by him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he breathes. One of his hands reaches over to cup one swinging breast and then the other. His fingers toy at your wet nipples once more. “You’re already such a MILF.”

The term makes your cheeks burn. “Oh my God,  _please_  don’t call me that,” you chide with a little chuckle.

“Why not?” he laughs back. “It’s true. You’re so. damn. sexy.” He emphasizes each word with concise, gasp-inducing thrusts. “And I think motherhood is only going to enhance that.”

“Ungh, right now I just want to come,” you plead, not interested in continuing a conversation at the moment, no matter how flattering. Your body feels heavy, but the coil in you is getting close to snapping again. “Please… please…”

“Oh, you will, doll. I want you to come just as badly.” He maneuvers his second hand around your waist, under your stomach, and between your legs to trap your throbbing clit between two fingers. “Want you to come all over my fucking cock.”

“Keep going and I will,” you promise him.

So he speeds his thrusts up until he is hitting your g-spot at a maddeningly pleasurable consistency, and he rubs at your clit just the way he has learned you like. The steady  _whap_ ping sound of skin on skin fill the nursery, along with your avid encouragements for your husband to keep groping, keep pounding, keep going.

“You’re dripping everywhere for me, aren’t you, baby?” he coos salaciously. “Your pussy is soaking my dick and my fingers, and your tits are soaking my hand.”

He is not wrong. Everything feels so wet, so hot, so sticky. You whimper and repeatedly push back against him to further increase the friction.

“So fucking filthy,” he goes on, nearly growling now. “Makes me want to fill you up full of my cum, just like when I got you pregnant in the first place.”

His words, paired with a few more sweeps of his fingers over your clit and stabs of his cockhead against the deepest place inside you, burst you straight through the ceiling of your climax. With a whiny, squeaking moan, your walls clamp him tightly, and it is not more than four of five more strokes before he joins you in euphoria. He seizes and grunts deeply as his seed jets out of his body and into yours to meet the resistance of your already occupied womb. There is so much that it oozes back out of you and down along your thighs before the spurts have even finished coming.

Both pairs of legs between the two of you are shaky as Namjoon pulls out of your swollen core with a slick pop. He helps straighten your body and pulls you into a tight embrace as you both regain your lost breath. His sweaty chest is nearly as damp as yours as it heaves against your back, and you can feel his heart racing.

“You alright, doll?” he checks again while dotting more sweet kisses along your shoulder. “Was that good?”

“ _Very_  good,” you assure him with a blissed smile. You turn your head to the side and pucker your mouth to request a kiss. Your lower belly is cramping from the intensity of your orgasm, and you massage it absently as Namjoon’s lips envelop yours. His fingers bump yours as he, too, goes to cradle your stomach.

“How’s the little princess?” he asks next.

“Fine,” you answer without bothering to argue again that it could be a little  _prince_  instead. You kiss him lovingly and whisper against his mouth: “We’re both just fine, thanks to the daddy.”

 

* * *

 

Copyright © 2018-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


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